Memories Lost, Memories Gained
by Kalliope1990
Summary: Isolde is dragged through the Gate into the Fullmetal Alchemist world, losing the memories of her past life and loved-ones as her Equivalent Exchange for safe passage. The first person she meets in this new world is Greed, a homunculus.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first FMA fanfic. I don't own any of the original characters, they belong to Hiromu Arakawa-sensei, but I do own Isolde!**

**I also do not own any of the songs that Isolde hums/sings in following chapters. If you don't know who the songs belong to, search for them using the lyrics, as there will be so many, I can't be arsed to credit them all, coz I'm lazy like that. lol.**

**This fanfic has been rated MA+ for coarse language, sex scenes, possible drug usage (legal and otherwise), and adult themes. If I've forgotten anything, please feel free to comment/message me about it. :)**

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It started raining. Isolde hated getting caught in the rain; especially when she had to walk a couple of miles down a dirt road. The small, brunette woman cast a scathing and miserable look at the night sky as she trudged down the mucky path. She held the strap of her satchel bag tightly to her, and pulled the faux-fur rim of her puffy-jacket hood down further over her grey-blue eyes. She hoped the rain would let up soon, or she'd be soaked through.

She slipped a little as she climbed the last hill, enjoying the view of the valley below. She was glad she'd decided to move to Ireland for a little while, even though it was so green and wet all the time, the total opposite of home; red and dry Australia. It was such a beautiful place. Magical, if you like. Now for the horrible slide down the hill, she thought, reality returning. She sighed resolutely and angled herself slightly to get the best grip out of her now-filthy leather work-boots.

She was making good progress. Until a sudden flash of lightening and deafening crack of thunder spooked her, making her jump. She tripped on a rock, and tumbled into the bracken on the roadside, thankfully managing to skip/hop/stumble over the washout and muck before landing in an ungraceful heap in the forest at the roadside, smacking her head on a hidden tree branch. The last thing she saw before blacking out was little starbursts of light, before what seemed to be eternal blackness inside a great gateway, and she fell right into it.

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She awoke an unknown amount of time later, without a memory, and her coat and bag. She had no idea who she was, or where she was. She sat bolt upright in the damp undergrowth, looking around with a confused and scared expression on her face.

"Well, there's no use getting all freaked out," Isolde said aloud to herself, forcing herself to be calm. She laughed suddenly. "I like my voice. Hm, wonder where I am? I wonder why I'm taking this so well. Well, no use staying here." She pushed herself to her feet, and walked over to the road. "Left or right?" she mused. She saw a pebble at her foot that had a dip in the centre. She picked it up and saw it was flat on the other side. "Dip left, flat right," she decided as she flipped it. She caught it, dip up, and slipped it in her pocket and she started walking to the left.

She looked up at the clear night sky, wondering why she was out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, especially without a coat. She looked down at her clothes. A heavy pair of boots with a steel toe, a pair of close-fitting blue jeans and a black scoop-neck skivvy under a grey-and-black striped t-shirt with three buttons down the cleavage, and short little sleeves. While looking at her clothes, she noticed a necklace. It was silver with a name written in a pretty font. She took it off to get a better look at it. "Isolde," she read. "Well, at least I have a name now." She smiled, refastening it around her neck. She liked talking aloud to herself. She found it helped set things in her mind.

She started kicking her feet out amiably as she walked down the road, her mind wandering as she took in her surroundings. She was enjoying the freedom of the lackadaisical attitude she had towards her predicament. Soon, she started half-heartedly skipping, humming a tune that sprang to mind, although the words escaped her.

She'd stopped skipping as she walked steadily up a steep hill. When her head cleared the top, she saw a man standing on the side of the road, leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. He was a lot taller than Isolde, but that wasn't hard. She was only five-feet-two, after all, and this man looked about six-three. He had short, dark spiky hair, wore strange little sunglasses (made odder by the fact it was the middle of the night), a white-fur-trimmed, sleeveless black vest over what appeared to be a dark navy, skin-tight singlet with odd red spots and stripes around his ribs and over his shoulders, black leather pants, and leather boots with a pointed toe. He looked like somebody who took a lot of pride in his appearance, and he had a toned, well muscled looking body that Isolde appreciated in a few quick glances.

In her mildly distracted state, she slipped on a loose rock. "Oops!" she exclaimed laughing as she scrabbled up the last few steps of the hill. "Hello," she said to the man who was now looking at her quizzically as she dusted her hands off on her jeans. "Um, do you know where we are? I'm a bit lost."

"About five minutes outside of Dublith," the man replied, flicking his cigarette away and walking over to Isolde. "I'm Greed," he introduced himself, extending a hand.

"Isolde," she replied, placing her fingers in his in a very ladylike handshake. He raised her hand to his lips, a kiss lightly brushing across her knuckles. She blushed.

"So how did you get out here?" Greed asked. He hadn't released her hand, and his thumb was currently whispering back and forth across the back of her hand.

"I don't know," Isolde replied, trying to gently extradite her hand, and failing. At least his hand was warm. It was so cold on this side of the hill! "I don't remember anything before I woke up on the roadside about fifteen minutes back that-a-way." She turned slightly, and tilted her head back down the road. "I only know my name because of my necklace."

Greed's eyes dropped from hers to look at the necklace, and lower. His eyes were taking in her tanned, ample chest, slender waist, and the high, round backside above her long, slender legs. Isolde coughed quietly. "The eyes are just a bit further north."

Greed grinned, exposing some rather sharp-looking, pointed teeth, and proceeded to examine her face. She had shoulder-length, wavy, chocolate brown hair, interspersed with pale gold streaks, parted on the right, with a black rose on a pin holding it back above her right ear. Her eyes were large and wide, framed with long, dark lashes, suggesting an innocence that was reflected in her navy-rimmed, stormy grey-blue eyes that held flecks of silver with smaller flecks of gold around the pupil.

She had a small, ski-slope nose, with a small silver stud in the left hand side, and a dusting of freckles that trailed along to her cheekbones. He turned his attention to her mouth; it was small, but the lips were full and soft looking above a stubborn chin.

"Are you finished?" Isolde asked mildly, cocking her head to one side. She shivered slightly as a cold wind blew down the road.

"Yeah," Greed said with a short laugh. "C'mon, you look frozen. You can crash at mine until somebody comes to claim you. Here." He released her hand and draped his vest around her shoulders, putting his hand on the small of her back, guiding her down the road to Dublith.


	2. Chapter 2

Greed almost laughed at his luck. He just went out of town for a walk, and he found himself a pretty little girl. Well, maybe not little as in young, she must've been about 20 years old, but she was tiny. The top of her head barely reached up to his collarbone, and that was with those heavy work boots on; they probably added at least an inch of height. He loved the fact that she was out here without a decent coat. As the wind picked up again, she instinctively leaned closer to him.

"Sorry," she gave a half-grin up at him apologetically. "I guess I'm not a 'cold' person." She bit down on her teeth as they started to chatter a little.

"Its okay," Greed grinned back at her, flashing his predatory teeth and sliding his arm around her waist, holding her in close. "I don't feel the cold so much, but I don't mind sharing the warmth."

"Th-thanks," she chattered as a particularly chilly gust tore down the road. "I couldn't feel it so much on the other side of the hill. There must be a storm coming. Can you smell it?" She lifted her nose to the air and sniffed delicately.

As if on cue, the sky began to darken. "I'd say you were right, babe," Greed grinned up at the sky as a peal of sheet-lightening and a rumble of thunder rolled along the sky.

"I think I'm going to hate rain," Isolde thought aloud as a big, fat drop of rain splashed onto her nose. "Ugh!" she groaned with distaste and wiped the offensive droplet away as its vengeful cousins started to fall all around them. Luckily, the town of Dublith had loomed into view not far away.

"C'mon babe lets go!" Greed said as he grabbed her hand and started running towards the town. "My place is on the outskirts, not far from here, but we're gonna have to run if you don't wanna get soaked!" He laughed as he pulled the diminutive woman along behind him. She soon joined in the laughter as they tried to evade the heavy, but luckily well-spaced, water-missiles.

Greed led her to what looked like a bar called 'The Devil's Nest'. He opened the door for her and ushered her in.

"Boss's home!" somebody yelled from the bar. A young man with olive-blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing what looked like a samurai robe and katana poked his head up the stairwell. He sniffed the air before asking with the same voice, "Who's she?"

"Doro, this is Isolde, she's gonna be staying with us for a while," Greed introduced them. "Isolde, this is Dorochet."

"Hello," Isolde smiled, and gave a small wave.

"Get everybody together in the bar," Greed ordered. "So we can do all the intros at once."

"Yessir," Dorochet replied with a quick nod, flashing Isolde a smile before running off to comply.

Almost as soon as Greed and Isolde reached the bar, all of Greed's employees were assembled. There were six of them, five men and a woman.

"Okay guys, this is Isolde," Greed announced with one hand on the small of her back. "She's gonna be staying with us for a while. Any questions?"

"Can I have her?" A tall, blonde, broadly-built man asked lecherously.

Greed shot him a look of almost pure contempt. "No, you cannot." He said firmly, looking into the man's eyes, before looking at each of his men. "She's _my_ guest." he said in a possessive tone that made Isolde want to shiver. "Isolde, that idiot over there is Ulchi, the tall one is Law, you know Doro, the woman is Marta, the small one is Bido, the guy in the coat and hat is Tucker, and the last one is Kimbley."

"Zolf Kimbley," Kimbley stated, moving forward to stand in front of Isolde. "The Crimson Alchemist. You may have heard of me."

"Maybe," Isolde agreed. "But I've got no memory. I hit my head in the woods, and now I don't remember anything from before I woke up. I probably wouldn't even recognise my own mother if I bumped into her." She finished with a laugh.

Kimbley looked at her sullenly, as if she'd just spoiled a nasty trick he had up his sleeve. "Really? How unfortunate. Perhaps I should give you a demonstration of what I can do…"

"No. You won't," Greed stated firmly, putting a possessive arm around Isolde's shoulders and pulling her gently away from Kimbley. "C'mon, come and sit down and warm up." He said to her gently as he guided her to the couch near the fireplace. The others moved away back to wherever they had been before they assembled. Only Dorochet and Marta stayed in the sitting room, Marta to one side, Dorochet behind Greed and Isolde. Kimbley returned to a stool by the bar, Law, Bido and Tucker vanished into rooms beyond, and Ulchi took up a post by the door. "Doro, two drinks please," Greed requested. "Bring the bottle."

"Thank-you," Isolde smiled at Doro as he handed her a glass of an amber liquid. Upon tasting it, she found it was whiskey, and she relished the warmth that spread to her limbs as she sipped it. Greed slouched comfortably next to her, his arms along the back of the couch, his feet propped up on the table, crossed at the ankles. Isolde sat forward, hunched over a bit, sitting with her drink and hands in her lap with her knees together, but her feet apart. She was staring into space, occasionally sipping her drink, and nearly jumped when Greed put his hand on the back of her neck, his now cold-feeling fingers brushing under her hair to touch her warm skin.

"What's wrong, babe?" Greed asked as he started to massage her neck. "Still cold?"

"A little," she admitted, not sure whether or not she liked what Greed was doing. "I was just thinking."

"Hm?" he asked, his fingers and thumb making small circles of either side of her neck, trailing from the base of her skull to her shoulders. "About what?"

"Not much," she evaded. "A hot bath mostly." She laughed quietly. Greed sat forward to pour her another drink, not taking his hand from her neck.

"Here," he said, pressing the glass into her hands. "Drink this and I'll get Marta to get some dry clothes organised for you." He sat back on the couch again, a little closer to Isolde this time, as he looked over to Marta, who was already moving to comply.

"I think I have some spare clothes somewhere that might fit you," Marta offered as she walked out the back door.

"Thank-you," Isolde smiled, but was slightly perturbed at being left in a room with two men. Kimbley must have stalked off earlier while she was lost in thought. At least Dorochet was still in the room, she supposed. She didn't think Greed would be too familiar while there was somebody else in the room. She sipped at her whiskey, still sitting forward a little.

Greed seemed to notice that Isolde was a little uncomfortable. "Relax, babe," he said as he gently pulled her back by the shoulder so she was sitting back on the couch, Greed's arm around her shoulders, stroking her upper arm with his fingertips. "There's nobody who will harm you here." He threw back his second whiskey and poured himself a third.

Marta came back a few seconds later, holding a bundle of clothes. "Sorry, this is all I could find," she apologised in advance as Isolde stood up to take the bundle. "The bathroom's down this way."

"See you soon, babe," Greed winked at her as she followed Marta down the corridor.


	3. Chapter 3

Once Marta had closed the door behind them, Isolde asked her, "Is Greed always so, um, _familiar_? He just seems a little, well, grabby…"

Marta hissed a short laugh. "It's just his way, he won't hurt you. There's fresh towels on the rack, and soap in the dish." She explained as she left Isolde to it. "There's no lock, so you might want to push that chair there up under the door knob. The guys around here have yet to discover the art of knocking."

Isolde laughed at that. "Shall do, thanks for the heads up."

"No worries. Just leave your clothes by the door to get washed." Marta smiled back, closing the door. Isolde promptly pushed the chair next to the door up under the handle, and inspected the bundle of clothes Marta had given her. It held a black singlet similar to the one Marta herself was wearing, and a dark blue, cotton skirt.

Isolde slowly peeled off her damp clothes, surprising herself at the number of layers she was wearing. Under her t-shirt and skivvy, she was wearing a thin cotton singlet over her leopard print bra, and under her jeans, she had a pair of footless stockings over a pair of black, 'boy-leg' panties and thick warm socks. She left the stockings and her undergarments with the clothes Marta had found for her, and she ran the shower.

_Oh, this is heaven,_ she thought as she stepped under the hot jet of water, trying to keep her hair dry. She found the soap and quickly washed herself, so she could spend a little time just soaking in the heat. She didn't know how much hot water there was, so she soon stepped out and got dried and dressed, leaving her shoes off. For some reason she seemed to prefer to be barefoot.

While she was folding up her damp clothes, she found a hair tie in her pocket, and proceeded to tie her hair up in a quick, messy bun before walking back to the sitting room and bar.

Greed looked up as Isolde re-entered the room. The blue skirt that Marta had found for her swished around her hips and ankles and the black singlet clung to her as she turned to close the door behind her, both hiding and emphasising her curves in a way that made him want to find out exactly what was underneath.

"Feeling better, doll?" He asked as she walked back over to the couch.

"Yes, thank-you," Isolde smiled genuinely. "Much better! It's amazing just how refreshed a nice, hot shower can make you feel. Here's your vest back." she sat down next to Greed again as he put his vest back on and poured more whiskey.

"To hot showers," Greed said as he handed Isolde her third glass.

"And good whiskey," Isolde added as they clinked glasses and downed it in one. She sat back into the soft sofa, crossing her legs at the knee as yet more whiskey was poured. Greed sat back as well, his feet returning to the coffee table, and his arm around Isolde's shoulders. He could smell the clean, soap smell on her skin, her own smell in her hair, and he even had an amiable view of her cleavage. "So what do you guys do here?" she asked. "Most of your guys seem to be military, or military trained. Except for Tucker, and maybe Kimbley."

"Well, we basically just live here in the bar, and work towards our own ends," Greed said evading any specific answer. "As for the military training, that's something you'd have to ask the others."

"Hm, okay," Isolde accepted mildly, although she was hoping for a better answer.

"What about you, babe?" Greed asked. "Any memories returning?"

"No, not yet," Isolde replied with a small frown, setting her own feet upon the table, crossing at the knee. "I can remember everything that's happened today clearly, despite all this whiskey, but I cannot remember one godforsaken thing before I woke up in the woods tonight."

"Tch, I haven't given you that much whiskey!" Greed admonished cheerfully as he poured yet another serve. Dorochet gave a small cough from the bar. Greed threw a look over his shoulder at the man, who just grinned and raised his glass to him.

Isolde also craned her head over the couch back, grinned and raised her glass to Dorochet as he returned the gesture to her. "Where did Marta and Ulchi go?" asked as she looked around the room. Only she, Greed and Dorochet remained.

"Went to bed," Dorochet answered. "I'm about to go myself. Give you two some peace." He winked at them as he finished his drink and headed for the door. Isolde would have been glad she missed the grin that Greed gave Dorochet; it would have made her get up and leave right there and then.

"Another whiskey?" Greed asked Isolde mildly as the door clicked shut behind Dorochet.

Isolde gave a small frown. "How many is that now?" she asked. She was feeling a bit light-headed by now, with a warm flush over her cheeks, but it appeared that she had a high tolerance to alcohol.

Greed counted them up on his fingers. "I've had… eight, two while you were in the shower, so I think you've had about… five? So this is six for you, and nine for me." He declared as he poured the measures.

"Nine?" Isolde exclaimed with a laugh, accepting her glass as Greed sat back, the arm going around her shoulders again. "That can't be good for you!"

"You only live once," Greed countered, tilting his glass as he raised it to his lips, caressing her now bare upper arm with his knuckles.

"True, true," Isolde agreed with a giggle. "I think I'm starting to get a tad drunk."

Greed grinned to himself behind his glass. "How drunk?" he almost purred into her ear.

"Not that drunk, mate," she laughed.

"You sure?" this time he did purr into her ear, before starting to caress behind her ear with the tip of his nose.

"Yes," she affirmed, trying to sit up, but Greed held her by the arm around her shoulders, and turned her into him as he pressed her down to the arm of the couch, and pressed his lips to hers. She squeaked in surprise and indignance as he even proceeded to gently tug out her hair tie as he deepened the kiss, his tongue snaking along her pursed lips.

"Mmm, whiskey tastes better when it's on your lips," Greed said, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he released her lips to stare into her eyes. Isolde finally noticed that his eyes were a violet colour, and his pupils were slitted like a snake's.

"Get off me." Isolde glared into his eyes defiantly.

"Why?" Greed asked, pressing down on Isolde slightly. "I wanna see what _you_ taste like." He pressed his lips to hers again, kissing her more deeply than before as Isolde tried vainly to push him off as his warm tongue explored her mouth.

"Stop it!" Isolde growled when Greed next released her, trying to push him away.

"Icecream," he said simply. "And sunshine."

"What?" Isolde asked, thrown off guard and confused.

"What you taste like," he explained. "You taste like icecream and sunshine." He dipped his head to her neck this time. "Mm, vanilla…" He grinned lecherously against her neck as he kissed, nipped and sucked from under her earlobe, down to her collarbone and back up.

"I mean it!" Isolde cried, trying with all her might to force him off, squirming around, trying to wriggle out from under him. "Get off of me!"

"No you don't," Greed grinned as he continued down from her collarbone to her cleavage. "If you meant it, you wouldn't have stayed here when Doro went to bed." He slipped a hand up around her waist and under her singlet and up her back.

"I'll scream!" Isolde threatened, still trying to escape, one hand gripping Greed's wrist, her fingers lacing through the leather bands wrapped around them, trying to push his hand away from under her shirt.

Greed chuckled evilly, "I'll make sure you do…"


	4. Chapter 4

With a speed that both surprised and somewhat scared Isolde, Greed stood up and scooped Isolde up into his arms like a baby.

Isolde cried out in alarm. "No! Put me down!" she yelled before Greed pressed his lips to hers again to silence her as he carried her out behind the bar, up a flight of stairs, down a short corridor and into his room. He put her down on as he entered the room, turning to lock the door behind him with a bar at the very top of the doorframe.

While his back was turned, Isolde ran to hide, but the large bed in the middle of the room was the only thing that could afford her some cover, she quickly calculated that although she could fit underneath, Greed would not, and he wouldn't be able to reach her if she was in the middle. On silent bare feet, she ran and dove behind the bed. But when she attempted to wriggle under it, she was confronted by an intense and irrational fear of the small, cramped space. _No!_ Isolde wailed internally. _The only place to hide and I'm a fucking claustrophobic!_

"You okay, down there?" Isolde's eyes snapped up to see Greed, shirt- and shoe-less, leaning casually against the wall, looking down at her with a mildly amused expression. She sprang to her feet, in a defensive stance. "Can't fit?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with unshed mirth.

"Just found out I'm claustrophobic," Isolde replied shortly. She backed away sharply as Greed pushed himself off the wall.

"Unlucky," Greed sympathised. He grinned a shark-like grin advancing as Isolde backed up against the wall. She made an attempt to dive across the bed, but Greed caught her by the waist and pinned her to it instead. "Tell you what," he started grabbing her wrists as Isolde's hands sprang up to claw at his face. "You give me one kiss, then if you don't want any more, I'll let you go."

Isolde was naturally suspicious. "Promise?" she asked, her suspicion clear as a bell. In reply, Greed climbed off her, went to the door and pushed the latch up so the door could open.

"Promise," he replied as he walked back over to the now-standing Isolde. He might be a lot of bad things, mainly greedy, but he wasn't a liar. Plus he was certain that once she let herself enjoy it, she'd be his. He wrapped one arm around her waist and stroked a few stray strands of hair out of her face with his free hand. "What do you say?"

"Fine," Isolde hissed through clenched teeth. "One kiss." She turned her face up to his.

"But you have to mean it," Greed said, placing a finger on her lips.

"What do you mean, 'mean it'?" she asked, moving her head so his finger wasn't on her lips. She was getting angry and just wanted it over and done with.

"Kiss me like you want it," he said softly. "Like you mean it. If you don't, well…" he held her a little tighter, "we'll do it my way…"

This time Isolde didn't glare at him defiantly, instead her true fear shone through her eyes. Greed almost relented when he realised that her brave front wasn't playing hard to get, she was just trying not to let on how scared she was. He didn't know how to handle women when they were scared. Most women fell for him fairly quickly, and were all too ready when he decided he wanted to do something about it, even when they played hard to get. _Well, I can't back down now,_ he thought to himself. _Can I?_ He didn't know. He'd never been in this position before.

"Okay," Isolde's tiny voice broke through his thoughts. She lifted her chin and softly pressed her lips to his, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck. As Greed lent into her kiss, she softly deepened it, her small tongue slipping between his lips and jagged teeth to caress his. She tried to keep the kiss soft and tentative but needy, hoping it would suffice. She nibbled on his lower lip for a little before returning her tongue to his. Greed pulled her closer, the arm around her waist almost lifting her off her feet and the other hand went up to her hair, quickly stealing the black rose pin and pocketing it before weaving into the hair at the back of her head, holding her to him as he kissed her back, hungrily, but trying to be gentle himself.

_Damn, this girl can kiss!_ He thought to himself. _Maybe she does want it…_

Greed lifted her up so only her toes were skimming along the wooden floor, and carried her to the bed, his lips not breaking contact with hers, trying to be careful and gentle with her. As he moved to lay her beneath him, she broke the kiss.

"You said you'd let me go!" she started struggling as she cried this out in alarm.

"I did, didn't I?" Greed agreed, standing up, one knee still on the bed. He extended a hand to Isolde and helped her up. "I'll take you to your room." Greed was quietly disappointed that she didn't want him. He'd hoped that if he was gentle enough, she'd give in. He opened the door back out to the corridor for her. He went to put his hand on the small of her back, but she flinched away. Greed himself flinched inwardly at the rejection. He wasn't used to it at all. He usually got what he wanted, when he wanted it, how he wanted it.

The room he had Marta make up for her was only two doors down from Greed's, and he showed her inside, flicking on the light switch. It was pretty much bare except for a heavy-looking wooden bed with a thick mattress, two fluffy looking pillows and thick blankets, and a large wooden wardrobe and set of drawers to one side.

"It's not the Ritz," he acknowledged. "But it's comfy. And you've got a bathroom through there."

Isolde didn't reply.

"Hey," he started gently, putting his hands on Isolde's shoulders and looking her in the eye. "I'm not going to apologise for what happened, coz that's not my way. I'm a greedy bastard, and when I want something, I take it, but I won't do that to you again, unless you want me to. I'm not what you'd call a good person, but I'm not a liar; you can trust me when I say something, okay?"

"Okay," Isolde mumbled quietly. "It's not like I have a choice, or anywhere else to go."

Greed sighed. "Goodnight, Isolde," he said softly, giving her a quick, gentle kiss on the forehead before turning and leaving.

Once Greed had left, and she heard his door click shut, Isolde walked over to the bathroom door, which was towards Greed's room. She calculated that the door between their rooms must be a linen cupboard, as there was no door from her bathroom to the corridor. She quickly checked the walls for any peep-holes, and was satisfied when she didn't find any. She walked back out to her room, and sat on the bed. Her knees drawn up under her chin as she thought.

Although she was shaken from what had just happened with Greed, she realised that if he really wanted to, he could have quite easily forced her. He had quite bare-facedly admitted that he wasn't a good person, but he'd also released her, like he promised, so maybe there was truth to what he said about not being a liar. For some stupid reason, she felt compelled to give that grabby bastard a second chance. _Why?_ She asked herself, as she took off her bra, stockings and the skirt, folding them up and placing them on the floor by the bed. With a confusing mess of thoughts tumbling around her empty-feeling mind, Isolde climbed in under the covers and went to sleep, to dream of strange music.


	5. Chapter 5

Greed returned to his room, a confused frown furrowing his brow. This girl, Isolde, confused him. He didn't like being confused. He liked being in control. He supposed that was partly why he pressed her so much earlier. He wanted to assert his control over something new in his life. Instead, he'd allowed her to control him. He let a simple, frightened face make him relent. He hated himself for the shudder of self-repulsion he felt when he remembered how her big, blue eyes had pleaded at him, felt like they'd stabbed him in the heart, if he had one.

He pulled her black-rose pin out of his pocket as he lay back on his bed. He lifted it to his nose, inhaling her scent. She even smelled like icecream and sunshine. Her scent was also of heat; hot, dry, dusty heat. She smelled like the desert almost, but with hints of strange, woody flowers and plants, with a hint of the ocean. She obviously wasn't from Amestris; he'd figured that much by her strange accent, full of soft, rounded vowels, sharply defined consonants and words that almost seemed to flow into one another, like she was too laid back to make her accent harsh. Maybe she was from a port town somewhere far away; those sorts of places were melting pots of languages, and usually produced strange, bastardised accents.

Maybe she'd run away, he mused. Maybe nobody would come looking for her, and he could keep her. He just lay in silence as he tried to figure out his thoughts about the strange girl in the room next door.

_Is that, music?_ He thought suddenly, thinking he could hear singing. He begrudgingly rolled out of bed, and padded down the hall, looking for the source. He stopped when he realised it was coming from Isolde's room. He silently opened the door, and peeked in.

It was Isolde singing, but she seemed to be fast asleep. Greed silently walked up to her bed, looking at her peaceful face as she sung in a clear, soft voice.

"_Isn't anyone trying to find me?  
Won't somebody come take me home?  
It's a damned cold night,__Trying to figure out this life,  
Won't you take me by the hand, take me somewhere new,  
I don't know who you are, but I'm with you…"_

He sat down on his heels beside her as she continued to murmur the strange song, gently brushing her hair out of her face. _You poor, daft woman,_ he thought, not unkindly, to himself, his hand on her forehead. _You _really_ don't know who I am. You went and got yourself involved with a monster like me…_

"Mmph…" she muttered something incomprehensible in her sleep, fidgeting under Greed's hand. "Five more minutes…" she sighed, one leg falling out from under the covers.

Greed chuckled at her sleepiness as he gently lifter her leg by the ankle, giving her a quick kiss just above her knee before sliding it back under the warm covers.

"Mmph!" Isolde groaned as she stuck her leg out again. "Comfy…"

"Have it your way, then," Greed admonished quietly.

"Will…" Isolde muttered back, still not cogent enough to be awake, but enough to stick her other ankle out as well, a small, lazy yet playfully self-satisfied smile twitched on her lips.

"Tch, goodnight, little songbird," Greed said in farewell as he silently padded back to her door.

"Night…" she exhaled softly as the door quietly clicked shut.

* * *

Greed woke early the next morning, but not as early as his faithful dog-chimera ninja, Dorochet, who was slowly going through some katas as was his morning ritual.

"You're up early, boss," Dorochet remarked as Greed went to the kitchen and opened the fridge in search of leftovers for breakfast. "I would've thought you would've stayed in bed later today, considering how you were ogling that girl last night." He snickered suggestively.

"Why is there nothing to eat in here?" Greed snapped, slamming the fridge closed, and moving to raid the pantry.

Dorochet paused in his kata, noticing that Greed was far too irritable today, considering he got laid last night. Unless, "You didn't do her, did you?"

"Mind your own goddamned business," Greed retorted, still buried in his search of the pantry.

"Well, why the hell not?" Doro asked, somewhat flabbergasted. "You were all over her last night! The look you gave Ulchi when he asked if he could have her-"

"Since when is this your fucking business?" Greed snapped testily, slamming the pantry shut.

Doro stared at his boss in a state of almost awe that he hadn't sealed the deal last night. No woman turned down Greed, and if they did, he usually convinced them otherwise pretty damned quickly. He noticed something small and black, sticking out of Greed's pocket. He went over and plucked it out. "Isn't this her hairpin?" he asked puzzled, he sniffed it to verify his suspicions.

Greed snatched it back and shoved it in his pocket. "Go back to your dancing, Dorochet," he ordered shortly. "I kept it because I wanted it."

"Oof! Goddamn it all!" A small, quiet voice snarled as the two men heard a thump of a body connecting with a wall. Doro didn't miss the quick, furtive look of concern Greed threw in the direction of the noise. Isolde half stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing a shoulder with the opposite hand and her hip with the elbow of the injured arm.

"Morning," Greed said, digging through the cupboards once more.

"Morning," Isolde replied warily, stretching sleepily. "Morning, Doro." She said in a brighter tone as she noticed the man.

"Morning. Sleep well?" Dorochet asked as he returned to his kata.

"Mm," Isolde affirmed as she stifled a yawn and cracked some of her joints with loud pops. "Remind me to thank Marta when she wakes up."

"What were you bouncing off of?" Greed asked in a mock-admonishing tone. "I thought you were going to fall through the wall."

"I tripped on my skirt," Isolde replied a little stiffly. "Sleepiness, skirts and staircases don't mix."

Doro snorted a laugh as he dropped into a horse-stance and started doing knife-palm strikes.

"What's for breakfast?" Isolde asked, walking over to the kettle, filling it and setting it to boil on the stove.

"Nothing I can find," Greed huffed.

"Let me see," Isolde said, in a way that made Greed feel like she was addressing a petulant child. She quickly found eggs, milk, flour and sugar and set about making pikelets. "If you can't find something, make something," she said as Greed gave her a quizzical look as she started pouring seemingly random and unmeasured amounts of ingredients into a large earthenware bowl.

Soon, there was the warm smell of cooking filling the kitchen, and soon it was filled with Greed's people who had followed their noses towards the smell of food. Dorochet and Marta quickly lent a hand by setting out plates, cutlery, and butter and jam for everyone, and this quickly became a daily routine.

* * *

Isolde got to know her new companions over the next few days. She learned that Law, Marta, Doro, Ulchi, Bido and Tucker were all chimeras, the latter used to be an alchemist who specialised in creating chimeras, although he was here under apparent duress in case the other chimeras needed medical help. They had all at one point been a part of a military secret service during something called the Ishbalan War, but when they were injured, they were taken to a place known as lab five, and were subjected to terrible experiments. Greed had freed them and offered them jobs as his lackeys.

Kimbley was also busted out of Lab 5 with the others; he was a prisoner in the neighbouring prison, and was about to be used in an experiment himself. He was known as the Crimson Alchemist due to his propensity for blowing things, namely people, up by altering their chemical composition. He favoured Isolde with a demonstration on a mouse which had been caught in a trap. He was quite surprised when she clapped and laughed in delight and asked him to teach her, "Not that I'm going to blow _people_ up," she quickly assured everyone when they stared at the usually amiable girl with wide, shocked eyes. "I just want to know how to do alchemy. Plus I guess I'm a bit of a pyromaniac, and I hate mice!" she laughed.

Only Greed remained a mystery, and he wouldn't tell his story, and nobody else seemed to feel it was their place to inform her. He'd kept his promise, and hadn't ever touched her in an inappropriate way. He'd provided for her by buying her clothes and anything she needed. The only thing that bugged her was that no matter how hard she searched, she couldn't find her hairpin. She'd searched the entire bar from top to bottom, but had come up with a big fat nothing, except for a few coins (which she pocketed), a pretty necklace of gold with a diamond pendant (which she gave to a very surprised Marta), and a few magazines that catered to male tastes (which were quickly put back where they were found).

"I know I had the damned thing on the first night I was here!" She announced angrily as she searched the bathroom for the fifth time. "I took it out before I got in the shower, and I know I put it back in when I left!"

Whenever Greed saw her lifting up couches and cushions, he'd put his hand in his pocket, holding the pin, and contemplate giving it back, but in the end, his greedy nature always won out and he kept it, only taking it out at night to admire in privacy, his own little piece of this peculiar little woman.


	6. Chapter 6

"Greed?" Isolde started one afternoon, almost a month since she'd arrived at the Devil's Nest.

"Yeah?" he asked, lounging on the couch, nursing a large tumbler of cognac.

"I'm going out shopping, do you need anything?"

"Chocolate," he muttered after a few seconds thought. "And cookies."

"I can _make_ cookies, Greed," she reminded him. "It's cheaper, and they're better when they're fresh and warm out of the oven. Anything else, or just more chocolate?"

"Nah, that's all, Sunshine-girl," he smirked, using his favourite annoying pet name for her, which alluded to his statement that she tasted of sunshine, but to everybody else was a reference to her sunny nature.

Isolde growled back, "Prick," under her breath as she dodged Ulchi's familiar, grabby hand as she trotted swiftly up the stairs. Greed's smirk just got wider.

"Hands!" Greed growled at a suddenly bashful Ulchi, who stuffed his grabby hands in his pockets. Isolde laughed as she heard this, and stepped out of the door into the warm sunshine. Ulchi's advances were harmless, she knew. He wouldn't actually do anything, except maybe give her a friendly smack or pinch on the backside, but they seemed to incense Greed whenever he caught these harmless actions.

_Jealous prick,_ she laughed to herself as she ambled down the road to the markets, waving to the local children who had become fond of the very playful and occasionally childlike woman. Greed hated it when she'd buy sweets and share them around with the children, like she was now.

* * *

*_**Flashback**_*

"I have enough to share, so why shouldn't I?" she'd asked confused when had Greed muttered something under his breath.

"Because they're _yours_!" was his exasperated reply.

"I'm not giving them _all_ away," she replied. "I am keeping some for myself."

"So? You're still giving heaps away," he had argued. "You took the Oath of Avarice, remember?"

"So?"

"So you should be a bit greedier, if you ask me."

"There's a difference between being greedy, and being just plain selfish, you know, Greed," she countered as she smiled at and shooed away little boy who had sneaked back for seconds. "Tch, you've already had some, my lovey, there are still some kids who haven't had any yet. If there's any more left when everybody's had some, then you may have some more. That little boy was greedy," she used as an example. "But he wasn't so selfish that he threw a tantrum and _demanded_ more."

She smiled at the memory of his confusion at her simple statement and actions. He seemed to battle with it for a good few hours that day, before seeming to give up, preferring his way.

* * *

"You can come out now, Doro," she called over her shoulder as she walked away from a fruit stall.

"How did you know it was me?" the dog-man asked, starting to feel his ninja skills were fading.

"It's your day for tailing duty," Isolde laughed as Doro walked up beside her. "I know that jealous bastard has me followed whenever I go out alone."

"He just wants to make sure you're safe," Doro replied, knowing by now that his master had an unusual soft spot for Isolde, especially when it came to her safety and well-being. He had his own thoughts about why this was, but he didn't feel it was his place to tell her.

"Safely returning to the Nest every night," she chuckled ruefully, but with good humour, paying for a few bars of Greed's current favourite flavour of chocolate. "Tell you what; let's make a game of it."

"How do you mean?" Doro asked confused.

"We'll go drop the shopping off at the door of the Nest, get Ulchi to take it in, then you give me a two minute head start, and see if I can't evade you til I get back to the Nest in say, twenty minutes?"

"Deal!" Doro smiled. Being part dog, he did love games.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, Isolde was sneaking down an alleyway, hoping that Doro wasn't cheating and using his advanced sense of smell to track her. She had backtracked and deliberately walked through puddles and crowds and such to try and confuse him.

"Damn, dead end," she muttered to herself as she turned to go back down the alley. She lifted her green cotton skirt up as she dodged past a pile of muck sitting in a large putrid puddle.

"Mm, such nice legs…" somebody drawled from the shadows, causing Isolde to jump, drop her skirts, ignoring the muck, and start to hurry back down the alley, her heart starting to beat faster.

"Where are you going, little alley-cat?" a second voice whispered he grabbed her arms as she bumped into an unseen man.

"Let go of me," she demanded coldly, trying to step past him, but his partner came up behind her, grabbing her by the hips.

"Why would we want to do that, now?" she could hear the cold, lecherous smirk in his voice as he lent in to smell her hair.

Isolde didn't answer; she just kneed the man in front of her in the crotch, and elbowed the man behind her in the gut and started running back towards the alley entrance. In her haste, she didn't see the third man waiting at the entrance who grabbed her roughly by the hair as she tried to evade him.

"Doro! Help!" she screamed as the man forced her into the back of a delivery van, his comrades staggering up to the truck, evil-looking, self-satisfied grins on their faces as they jumped into the cab, the third man locking the door behind Isolde.

* * *

"Doro! Help!"

Dorochet's head snapped up in the direction of Isolde's scream and he was off, running as fast as his legs could carry him over the rooftops towards the scream. He arrived just in time to see her being forced into the back of a delivery truck for Caiman Brothers' Butchery. He tailed the truck just far enough to gauge where they were going.

_The abattoir_, Doro assessed before he ran back to the Nest, dreading Greed's reaction when he found out that he'd lost sight of Isolde.

"Isolde's been kidnapped!" he yelled, slamming the door open and running down the stairs.

Greed was up on his feet in a blink. "Where?" he demanded in a deceptively quiet voice.

"Abattoir," Doro puffed. "Caiman Brothers'."

"Let's go," Greed said in the same chilling tone of voice, striding up the stairs two at a time. As soon as his foot was out the door, he jumped up onto the rooftops and took off at a breakneck pace towards the abattoir.


	7. Chapter 7

Isolde was freezing. The delivery van into which she was thrown was of the refrigerated kind, and it was turned down very low. She could see her breath in a cloud of white fog that hung about her face as she tried to keep warm in her thin, sleeveless blouse and skirt. It had been a delightfully warm summer's day outside, and Isolde had dressed accordingly, loving the feel of sunshine on her skin. Now she was imprisoned in a freezing cold, pitch black, metal box; she was so far out of her comfort zone she could almost laugh if her teeth would stop chattering long enough for her to do so. There were puddles all over the floor, and wet patches on the walls, and Isolde's clothes were almost covered in said patches in a matter of minutes, accelerating the cold that was seeping into her bones.

After what seemed like an eternity, the truck crawled to a stop. When the doors opened, grey moonlight shone in, and one of the men climbed in and had to carry the almost frozen little woman out.

"Don't worry, little kitten," the man said as he threw her over his shoulder. "We'll soon warm you up…" Isolde whimpered at his comment and tried to will the feeling back into her arms and legs. It worked. As soon as she could, she kicked the man carrying her in the crotch. He dropped her bodily to the ground as he doubled over. Isolde landed on her left shoulder, which was badly scraped on the asphalt before she rolled to her feet and started to run away.

What she didn't notice was one of the other men who was coming out of the warehouse with a length of chain. He'd seen Isolde kick his cohort and start running away. As soon as he'd seen this he'd started to swing the chain above his head and he threw it at Isolde's ankles. It wrapped around her right leg, and he jerked it hard to make her fall. She went down hard, her own momentum throwing her into the ground. She tried to roll to protect her head, bringing her forearms up over her face, but she still smacked her forehead, and scraped her arms and knees up on the asphalt. She hissed in pain and tried to recover as quickly as she could to remove the chain, but the man started to reel her in with it, causing more scrapes and friction burns as she was dragged along.

"Naughty, naughty," the man with the chain admonished her as he picked her up by the hair. "Now look at you, all bloodied and messy."

Isolde looked up at her captors with a malevolently defiant glare. Now she recognised them. The Caiman brothers; a curiosity in the town as they were identical triplets, which were exceedingly rare. They were all hulking men over six feet tall, with sandy blonde hair and nasty-looking, beady brown eyes. The only distinguishing features about them were the neck-ties they each wore. Alan, the eldest, wore yellow, Bert, the middle child, wore blue and Cecil, the youngest, wore red. It was Cecil whom she had kicked, and Bert who had lassoed her, and was currently dragging her to her feet by her hair.

"Fuck you!" Isolde snarled like a caged tigress as she dealt Bert the same treatment as his baby brother. Unfortunately, he did not let go of her hair, but rather forced her head to the ground, before pinning her by the throat.

"You little bitch!" he wheezed as he gripped her windpipe. Isolde struggled vainly to kick him again as she tried to claw his eyes out.

"Bert!" Alan barked from the doorway. "Just get her inside. _Now!_"

Bert hissed in Isolde's ear as he continued to hold her by the throat, "I'm going to enjoy making you scream, you little whore!" He then punched her across the face, dazing her and making her see multitudes of stars as he threw her over his shoulder and lugged her into the abattoir.

"I doubt you're even man enough to get it up, you pathetic little pin-dick," Isolde giggled manically, punch-drunk, as she spat out a mouthful of blood from where his fist had smashed her cheek against her teeth. Bert roared in anger as he dropped her to the floor, and raised his fist to strike her again. Alan grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Now, now, brother," he admonished chirpily. "We still want to enjoy her pretty little face, especially while she's still conscious. You can take your anger out on her when we're done…"

Isolde giggled manically once more before reciting in a singsong voice;

"_Can't even shout, can't even cry,  
The Gentlemen are coming by.  
Looking in windows, knocking on doors,__  
They need to take seven and they might take yours.  
Can't call to mum, can't say a word,  
You're gonna die screaming but you won't be heard._"

This was made all the creepier by the fact that her teeth were stained red with her own blood, and she just stared up at them, smiling, as calm as an ocean before a storm, her hair now a tangled mess, her clothes torn and bloodied. Her song echoed eerily around the empty abattoir to the sound of chains clinking in the stillness.

"Alan, I say we put her back," Cecil said shakily. "That woman's a witch if ever I saw one!"

Isolde's clearing mind snapped on this idea like a steel trap. She decided she'd play the crazed witch, hoping it would save her.

"Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight…?" she looked up a Cecil, her blue eyes wide and innocent, smiling up at him in a childlike manner. She didn't know how she knew these words, or why they even had such a chilling meaning, especially to her, but they were working. For some reason, these chilling words were tinged with humour in the back of her mind, like a spooky story, long turned into a joke between friends.

"Alan!" Cecil wailed. "She's putting a hex on me, I know it!"

"Seven days…" she said in a raspy voice before trailing off into a long sustained croaking noise, her eyes widening in an insane look of innocence and wonder, her grin twisting into one of evil joy. She slowly raised a finger and pointed at Cecil, directly between his eyes. She laughed again, cackling like a witch, as Cecil took off running after Alan, who was striding quickly through the warehouse toward their destination. A thoroughly perturbed Bert shook himself like he was shaking off a chill and proceeded to drag her through the abattoir by the hair.

"Do you know what that chill you just felt rolling down your spine means?" she asked Bert mystically, quite thankful that she didn't have a sensitive scalp. "That's somebody dancing on your grave… I hope it's me…" she cackled again, the sound echoed through the abattoir nicely. _If I ever get out of this, I might join the theatre_, she thought to herself, thoroughly amused at the idea.

They were heading for a large storage room. _Great, another giant fridge_, Isolde deadpanned to herself as they dragged her across the cold, wet floor. Bert continued to hold her by the hair as Cecil wrapped a chain around her wrists and lifted her up to hang by the chain on a large meat hook, her toes barely reaching the floor. It was times like this when she wished she were somewhat taller.

The chain was old and damaged by the cold damp air it was stored in, and it bit into her wrists mercilessly, hundreds of tiny sharp edges puncturing her skin, rubbing her wrists raw.

"Comfortable?" Alan asked her maliciously, pressing down on her shoulder so that the chain bit in further, little driplets of blood starting to collect on the chain and roll down her wrists.

"No, not really," Isolde replied blandly, trying her damndest to ignore the pain that was starting to throb all over her body. "I'd be much more comfortable sitting in a pool of your still-warm blood as I rip out your innards, listening to the sweet music of your cries of agony." She smiled sweetly at him, as if they were having a pleasant conversation over tea and biscuits.

Alan smiled sweetly back at her before giving her a vicious backhand across the face, on the opposite side that she was punched, a large red welt started to throb along her face from temple to jaw line.

"You hit like a girl," she chuckled at him, spitting the blood from her lacerated cheek at his feet.

Alan didn't respond. Isolde heard movement behind her, and the next thing she felt was searing pain as a razor sharp knife slid down the back of her right forearm. Her eyes went as wide as saucers, but she clenched her teeth hard and not a peep escaped from her lips, until she shakily said, "now that's terribly impolite."

She heard Bert growl in frustration with her, before he ripped the knife down her upper arm as well, not really deep, but deep enough to hurt like hell. Isolde gritted her teeth, but a low hissing groan of pain slipped through her lips.

"The manners around here are severely lacking," Isolde groaned testily as her warm blood trickled down her side. The chill air in the fridge helped the blood to congeal, so she knew she wasn't going to die of blood loss any time soon.

"Well, perhaps we should educate you in our manners and customs," Alan retorted smugly. "Here, girls don't back-chat." He promptly drew his own knife, and stabbed Isolde in the upper left thigh through her skirt. As he withdrew the knife, he used the puncture he'd put in her skirt to slit the garment open.

Isolde let fly with a long train of expletives that would have made even the most hardened sailor blush like a virgin schoolgirl. Wherever she had come from, they had swearing and cussing down to an art form.

"And they don't cuss, either," Bert snickered as he jabbed his knife into her left, and then her right calves, in the meat of the muscle.

Isolde just sang to herself now, trying to ignore the white hot pain that was radiating from her stab wounds, and the low throbbing pain of the abrasions.

"_Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?_  
_Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds?_  
_Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?_  
_Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need_

_I need a hero, I'm holding out for at hero 'till the end of the night_  
_He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast_  
_And he's gotta be fresh from the fight_  
_I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'till the morning light_  
_He's gotta be sure and it's gotta be soon_  
_And he's gotta be larger than life, larger than life…_"

* * *

**Disclaimer: I only own Isolde and Alan, Bert and Cecil Caiman. (Yes, I'm so original they're A B & C… XD)**

**All songs are copyrighted to their respective owners. (Google the lyrics for info)**

**All other characters belong to Hiromu Akawara-sama. **


	8. Chapter 8

As Greed closed in on the abattoir, he suddenly heard a screamed string of obscenities that almost made him baulk. When it registered that it was Isolde's voice, and it sounded like she was in no small amount of pain he redoubled his speed. He had just entered the warehouse when he heard her plaintive voice singing.

"_… I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night  
He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast  
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.  
I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light  
He's gotta be sure, and its gotta be soon  
And he's gotta be larger than life…_"

"Ha!" he heard a male voice laugh scathingly, his laugh punctuated by a small cry of pain from Isolde. "There's no hero coming for you, bitch."

Hearing this made Greed snarl silently to himself, _Wanna bet?_ He stalked up to the door of the cold room and opened it.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" A man with a yellow necktie snapped at him. "This is a private party, fuck off!"

"Really?" Greed asked mildly, stepping inside the huge fridge. "Then why did you leave the door open?"

"Look, go find your own girl, freak!" the man behind Isolde with a blue tie sneered.

"Ah, that's just the problem, you see," Greed explained blandly as he looked at Isolde. Her head was bowed, and she seemed oblivious to what was happening around her as she continued to sing softly. "That is _my_ girl."

"Not any more, jackass!" Alan retorted as he grabbed Isolde by the hair and mashed his lips against hers.

"Wrong again, _jackass_," Greed growled as he grabbed Alan by the shoulder, pulling him away from Isolde. "What's mine, _stays mine!_"

As Isolde's head was being held up by her hair, she finally noticed Greed as he yanked Alan away from her. She also saw the knife that Alan was about to slash across Greed's throat.

"Greed!" Isolde cried. Alan swiped up with the knife. Isolde screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the first person she ever met get his throat slashed. She heard Greed snicker. _What?_ Isolde's eyes sprang open to see Greed smirking at a very confused and frightened looking Alan. His blue/black muscle shirt seemed to have stretched up his neck to his jaw line. Isolde watched, fascinated as it shrank back down to his usual shirt.

"It'll take more than that to kill me, pencil-dick," Greed chuckled. Alan, enraged, started slashing wildly at him. Greed dodged easily.

_**BANG!  
**_

A gun shot went off, and Greed was looking mildly at a bullet wound in his stomach. Before their eyes, the bullet plopped out onto the floor with a dull '_plink_', and Greed's stomach regenerated before their eyes.

"It's a demon!" Cecil shrieked. "I told you she was a witch! She's summoned a demon to kill us!" he then proceeded to run out of the cold room and abattoir, screaming like a frightened child.

Greed grabbed Alan by the scruff of the neck, and advanced on Bert, who was shaking like a leaf. Greed's hands turned blue-black and claws sprouted from his fingernails. With one clean swipe he sliced the gun into six pieces. Bert proceeded to wet himself, and then drew his knife, which Greed also slashed into pieces.

"You hurt my girl," he hissed at them, holding them both by the shirt front and lifting them up above his head. "_Nobody hurts my girl!_" he bellowed, turning into his true form. He was a large, blue-black, muscle-bound creature. The red lines and dots that were on his clothes seemed to be a part of him, his teeth turned into spiked tusks that replaced his lips and his eyes turned blood red.

Alan also evacuated his bladder at this point, and Greed threw them both across the room. They slammed into the wall with such a force that it buckled on impact.

Isolde, dazed with pain, started singing again;

"_Can't even shout, can't even cry,  
The Gentlemen are coming by.  
Tapping on windows, knocking on doors,  
The need to take seven and they might take yours.  
Can't call to mum, can't say a word,  
You're gonna die screaming but you won't be heard…_"

Greed turned to Isolde, he gently lifted her chin, stroking her battered cheek gently with a thumb. "I'll make sure they never hurt you again, Sunshine-girl."

Isolde didn't hear him, but her brain locked onto the word 'sunshine', and the song changed. He slowly let her chin drop back down to her chest, as she started singing a happy little song, quite in contrast to what he was about to do, but very fitting…

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,_"

As Isolde started singing again, he walked over to the brothers and picked them up by their throats.

"_You make me happy, when skies are grey,_"

He started to slowly squeeze, their eyes bulged, and they clawed at his blue-black forearms vainly.

"_I never told him, how much I love him,_"

_Crack!_ Their necks broke, and blood slowly trickled out of their mouths, their eyes large and popping out of their skulls.

"_Please don't take my sunshine away…_"


	9. Chapter 9

Greed threw the bodies down and slowly shrank back into his regular form and he walked over to Isolde, who was still singing the little song over and over again. He gently lifted her from the hook, and holding her in one arm as he undid the chain around her wrists, hissing with sympathy when he saw the raw, red, bloody marks that circled them.

He quickly looked over at the damage that had been inflicted on the petite girl. She had a moderately deep slash running down her right arm from wrist to shoulder along the back, her upper left arm had little punctures down it on the inside, there was a deep gash in her upper left thigh, more punctures in the right thigh, and slashes in her calves. That wasn't counting how badly scratched up her knees, elbows, palms and her left shoulder was. He was sure that she probably had more scratches on her hips as well.

He picked her up bridal style and looked at her battered face. She'd been punched across the face on the left hand side, and slapped across the right. Her forehead had large scratch and a split in it across her right eyebrow.

"Let's get you home and patched up, Izzy," he whispered to her as he started walking out of the abattoir.

"Greed?" she croaked as they stepped out into the moonlight.

"Isolde?" he lifted her up closer to his ear.

"Don't blame Doro," she begged as she gripped his vest. "Not his fault. My stupid idea. Stupid game. Tired of being followed. Don't hurt Doro. Not his fault…" she passed out in his arms.

Greed held Isolde closer to him and took off running over the rooftops again, as fast as he could without jostling his cargo too much.

He kicked the door to the Devil's Nest open when he arrived. No more time for subtlety; Isolde had started to go pale, her lips were turning blue and her eyes had ashy circles around them.

"_EVERYBODY OUT!_" He bellowed at the patrons, who all scuttled out as quickly as they could at the sight of the bloodied little woman in his arms. "Law, get Marta and Tucker and the medical supplies as quickly as you can."

Greed used one hand to sweep the bar clear of all the glasses and bottles, and gently laid Isolde on it. "Hang in there, Isolde," he murmured, brushing her hair out of her face. He grabbed the nearest bottle of vodka and a clean tea-towel and began to gently but efficiently clean up her wounds.

"Just as well you're out cold, Sunshine," Greed chuckled more to himself than Isolde. "Otherwise this would hurt like hell."

Law, Marta and Tucker all filed in swiftly, carrying bandages, antiseptic and the suture kit.

"What have they done to her?" Tucker exclaimed in his breathy voice. "Law said it was bad, but this? This is monstrous!"

"We can argue monstrosities later," Marta snapped, starting to apply the antiseptic. "Let's just get her fixed first."

"We're going to need more suture silk," Law rumbled. "Dorochet?"

The dog chimera tried to shrink into his hiding place in the doorway. If he had dog ears and a tail, they would be flat against his head and tucked tightly between his legs.

"Go get the emergency kit from the basement," Law ordered as he started to stitch up Isolde's arm. Doro turned and ran to comply. He returned minutes later holding a large metal box. Law opened it and removed the suture silk, and a small bottle of morphine and a syringe.

"She'll need the morphine soon," he explained. "She might be out cold now, but she'll wake up shortly."

As if she had heard the large mans words, Isolde's brow furrowed and she mewled softly. Law slowly measured out some of the drug and injected it into her left arm.

* * *

About two hours later, Isolde was all stitched and bandaged up and was put to bed on a low dosage morphine drip. Greed quietly closed the door behind him and walked back out to the bar, pouring himself a large measure of brandy.

"Dorochet," he said firmly as he sat at the bar. "Come here."

Doro walked slowly up to his master, still looking like he had a tail between his legs. "Yes sir?" he asked quietly after sitting on his knees like a samurai, his katana across his legs.

"Do you have anything to say?" Greed continued in the same firm but quiet voice.

"Nothing that can sum up just how sorry I am, and how much I know I'm to blame for this," he responded quietly. "All I ask is that you make it quick and painless." He raised his sword above his head on both hands, offering it to Greed.

"What Isolde went through was neither quick nor painless, Dorochet," Greed said, still using the calm monotone. "So your punishment shall not be, either."

Dorochet flinched at these words, but still held his sword up steadily.

Greed took a large sip of his drink. "Put your sword away, Doro."

"Sir?" Doro asked confused, lowering his sword and looking at Greed.

"You're punishment shall be that you are going to be solely responsible for watching Isolde now," Greed explained coldly. "You will have to help her as she recovers. You will spend your every waking moment watching her, seeing what you have caused to happen to her. No matter how much she refuses or suggests alternatives like making a game out of it, you are not to leave her side unless I personally say otherwise. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Dorochet kowtowed low to Greed in acceptance of his punishment.

"You're lucky that Isolde asked me not to hurt you, Dorochet," Greed said quietly. "Now go stand watch outside her door."

"Yes, sir!" Dorochet walked off swiftly to comply.

"A fitting punishment," Kimbley remarked from the sofa.

"Shut up, Kimbley," Greed snapped. "Isolde made no request that I don't tear your head off."

"My, we are testy tonight," Kimbley retorted airily. "Anybody would think you were _in love_ with the little waif, the way you let her tell you how not to punish your lackeys."

Greed stood up swiftly, reached over the sofa and dragged Kimbley up by the collar. "I punish my men how I see fit," he hissed into his face. "If I had truly believed that Doro deserved to die for letting somebody I'd ordered him to watch out of his sight, you'd be helping to mop up his blood right now."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Kimbley shrugged amiably. "Although, I wouldn't blame you; Any red-blooded man would do anything to get a girl like her. Big blue eyes, soft dark hair, full red lips, other soft, full things… Even in the condition she's in now… And she's all drugged up and helpless…" He grinned in the general direction of Isolde's room lasciviously, as if he was toying with the idea of paying her a late-night visit.

Greed threw him back into the sofa, stalked over to the bar and finished his drink before storming off down the back hallway to his room.

He stopped in front of Doro and growled, "If Kimbley comes back here, send him packing. He's not allowed within five paces of Isolde. Am I clear?"

"Sir!" Dorochet saluted, wondering what the Crimson Alchemist had done to make Greed order such a thing. Back in the bar, Kimbley chuckled evilly to himself before settling back down on the couch, making little explosions in the air.

* * *

Isolde woke up an unknown amount of time later. It was pitch black, except for a sliver of moonlight shining between her curtains. She reached up and drew them, a little unsteady as she was doped up on morphine. Once she noticed the drip, she slowly pulled it out. She hated needles, she decided, and liked ones that stayed in your arm even less.

She carefully tottered out of bed and noticed she had been dressed in a fresh blue cotton nightdress, her favourite one with the thin strap-sleeves. She also noticed that she was almost covered in bandages from top to toe. She then realised that she must've been in quite a mess by the end of her ordeal, especially since she had been put on a morphine drip. Her head felt like it was full of cottonwool, and the pain that should have been throbbing all over her had been reduced to a dull itch in the back of her mind.

One hand on the wall, she slowly and unsteadily made her way to the door. She was quite surprised to find Doro sitting outside it, sound asleep. She went back to the bed and retrieved her pillows and quilt. She put her pillow on the floor and gently lowered Doro's head to it, and covered him with her blanket. _Silly pup_, she thought affectionately as she stroked his hair, as she often did when she was mothering him.

She wobbled a little as she stood up, and she fell into the wall opposite her door with a muffled thump, but she soon made her way up the hall to Greed's room without much fuss, so long as she leaned on the wall with her right shoulder with each step. She quietly opened the door and unsteadily made her way across the room, thankfully not needing to support herself on anything except her own two feet. Unfortunately, she did stumble as she neared the bed.

"Isolde? What are you doing?" Greed demanded quietly, moving to help her stand up, thankful that he forgot to remove his pants before bed tonight.

"Nothing…" she replied innocently in the same hushed tone, her legs wobbling slightly as she held Greed's forearms for support.

"Then I'm taking you back to bed!" he hissed back, picking her up bridal style for the second time that day.

"No! Please don't!" she begged quietly.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"… I'm scared," she said into his bare chest in a barely audible whisper. "I remember every nanosecond of what they did to me, and I'm terrified. I don't want to be alone. Besides," she said with a sad little mischievous grin. "There're giant needles in my room!"

Greed scoffed quietly at her last comment as he put Isolde down on his bed and lay down on her left hand side. "I think you're high on morphine, doll."

"I'm shiny, Captain, a-okay," she giggled to herself. Greed didn't get the reference. "I may be a little bit high," she admitted. "My head feels like it's full of cotton fluff and pebbles. How many stitches did I need?"

Greed was surprised by the question. "I don't know," he admitted, propping his head up on his arm, lying on his side. "I lost count after doing about forty odd on your leg here." He gently touched Isolde's right thigh, the one full of deep little stabs. "I think Law said something like seventy-odd went into your arm here." He gently slid his hand down her right arm.

"Really?" Isolde exclaimed sleepily, stifling a yawn. "I hope I don't scar badly," she muttered mostly to herself.

"You're all stitched up like a ragdoll," Greed laughed quietly, pretending not to hear her last comment as he thought to himself, _Scars or no, you'll still be gorgeous._ "Little Izzy Ragdoll."

Isolde laughed quietly and snuggled into Greed's chest as he drew a blanket up around her. "Greed?"

"Mm?" he asked as he drew lazy circles on her back.

"Thank-you," she said as she gave him a quick peck on the chest, right above where his heart should be.

"You're welcome, Izzy," he replied quietly into her hair, giving her a small kiss back as she drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

"No!"

Greed woke up groggily as Isolde started to thrash around in bed. She was having a nightmare. Greed picked her up and held her in his arms, but she started struggling more.

"Izzy!" Greed shook her gently. "Izzy, wake up!"

"No, let go!" she whimpered in her sleep, trying to escape Greed's arms. "Let me go! Please!"

"Isolde! Wake up!" she tried shaking her a little harder. He tapped her gently on the face, trying not to hurt her bruises. "Wake up, woman!" he barked sharply.

Isolde gasped loudly as she woke up, but once she realised where she was, she just collapsed into Greed's chest sobbing softly, but no tears fell.

"Sorry I woke you," she mumbled as Greed collected her into his lap.

"Don't worry about it, doll," he replied, holding her close, tucking her head under his chin. He wasn't getting a lot of sleep with her in such close proximity anyways; his body wanted to do something about the fact that there was a warm, female body pressed up against him.

"How did you do it?" she asked after a few moments silence.

"Do what?" Greed asked warily.

"Turn into that thing you did in the abattoir," she explained turning to look him in the face. Greed sighed, then explained what he was and how he came to be. He told her about his Ouroborous tattoo, his 'family' and all their strange abilities, omitting nothing.

"Hm," Isolde said finally.

"'Hm'?" Greed asked, somewhat surprised. "That's all you have to say is 'hm'?"

"Well, what else is there to say?" Isolde replied. "You've told me everything."

"And you're not scared?"

"Why would I be?" she asked. "Freaky powers or no, you're still the same old Greed to me."

"You're a very easygoing little thing, aren't you?" Greed laughed to himself.

"If I thought you were any threat to me, I wouldn't have come in here," Isolde said simply. "I'd have curled up in the hallway with Doro for company."

Greed involuntarily flinched and squeezed Isolde a little tighter at her last statement. _Mine!_ Was the fleeting thought that flashed through his brain at the thought of her cuddled up with Dorochet.

"Ow!" Isolde protested mildly.

"Oops," Greed loosened his grip slightly.

"Its not you," Isolde replied. "I think the morphine is starting to wear off…"

"Wait here," Greed said, putting her back on the bed and walking out of the room. When he came back holding a measure of morphine, Isolde had fallen asleep again, her nightie was tangled up around her thighs. He tried to keep his eyes on her arm as he gently administered the analgesic, then quickly tugged her nightie back down around her calves and stalked into his bathroom.

He raked his hands through his hair. Damn, but he wanted that girl! She was so damned sexy, even battered, cut up and bruised as she was! And she was spread out on his bed and he couldn't do anything about it. Just the thought of having to lie down beside her was enough to get his pulse racing, let alone sleep in the same bed for the rest of the night!

He decided the best way to do this was to sort himself out there and then. He took himself in hand and started thinking about the curve of her hips, her pert round ass, the way her cleavage looked in that deep-necked grey-blue dress he bought her, her long legs, the curve of her lips…

Then he all of a sudden started thinking about the way she laughed, how her hair smelled after she'd been in the sun, the way her eyes shone as she brought a tray of perfect cookies out of the oven, how cute she looked with a smear of flour across her face… Wait, that's not what he wanted to think about… Was it? He finished soon after, but was thoroughly confused. She was just another warm body to toy with, wasn't she?

_No, she is not!_ came the traitorous voice in the back of his head.

Damn it, he _cared_ about her. As much as he didn't even want to admit it to himself, he didn't just want to roll about with her; he wanted to hold her close, make sure she was safe and happy, and give her anything she asked of him.

_What's wrong with me?_ He asked his reflection as he washed his face, trying to clear his head. Kimbley's words from earlier snaked into the front of his mind.

"_Anybody would think you were _in love_ with the little waif…"_

Was he?

_No, I am not!_ he affirmed to himself.

_Yes, you are_, the voice in his head retorted smugly.

He dry-washed his face as he walked back into his room. He'd figure it out in the morning. For now he just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. He slid under the covers, pulling them up around Isolde as well. Then he pulled her in close so she was tucked into the curve of his body, his nose buried in her hair, and arm draped around her waist.

"Hmm," Isolde murmured contently in her sleep as Greed spooned her. Greed wished she wouldn't, he was still confused. Did he love her? Was a homunculus capable of loving a human? Did she love him?

"I think I want to love you, Little Izzy Ragdoll," he murmured into her hair as his brain started to figure itself out. "I think I want you to love me back."

Isolde started singing, as she did in her sleep every night. Greed loved to hear her sing. He'd sneak into her room to listen to her whenever he noticed it. The song she sang tonight didn't help with his confused state of mind, but deep down he felt it was very fitting, and he hoped it was true on her part.

"_I want you to want me,_

_I need you to need me,_

_I'd love you to love me,_

_I'm begging you to beg me,_

_I want you to want me, _

_I need you to need me,_

_I'd love you to love me,_

_I'll shine up the old brown shoes, put on a brand new shirt,_

_I'll get home early from work if you say you love me._

_Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?_

_Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?_

_Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying,_

_Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?"_


End file.
